


Improbability

by AnonymousSong



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Ficlet, M/M, Me having no self control when it comes to parentlock, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:25:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1696394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousSong/pseuds/AnonymousSong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tori’ll beat her.”</p><p>“Statistically unlikely.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Improbability

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QuinnAnderson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuinnAnderson/gifts).



> So this is me having no self control about Parentlock. Because random OTP Tumblr posts just like to smack me in the face with feels.
> 
> Also blame QuinnAnderson because she egged me on.
> 
> So, you know. Just shout at me in my inbox about Johnlock and something's probably gonna come of it. Because once again - no self control.

“Come on, Sherlock, it won’t be so bad.”

“We’ll be seated on uncomfortable benches surrounded by over-enthusiastic parents who find the best way to express their desire for their child to be better than the others is to scream as loud as they can. Not to mention how pointless of a game it is.”

John came around and placed his hands on the arms of Sherlock’s chair. The younger man was pouting, actually pouting with his lower lip stuck out, glaring at John. The ex-army doctor glanced upwards towards the stairs that led to Victoria’s room before looking back at his husband.

“This is not about us, Sherlock. This is about Victoria. She is extremely excited for us to be there to watch her today-”

“We’ve seen her practice. It’s just kicking a ball around-”

“No, it’s her first game and she’s worked really hard for this.” John sighed, seeing that Sherlock wasn’t going to budge. “All right, listen. Just… come for a little while, at least. She’d be ecstatic if you’d go.”

“Yes, just how she was **so** ecstatic at my presence as her field trip chaperone.”

“Sherlock, that’s completely different and you know it. You started a fire and crashed the bus.”

“It wasn’t my fault-”

“Yes, it was. It was completely your fault but that’s not the point.”

“Fine!” Sherlock growled. “I’ll go to this mindless sport and watch our daughter kick a ball around for two and a half hours and feel my brain rot.”

“Thank you,” John said, stepping back.

Victoria shouted down from her room, “I’m ready!”

The 11-year-old came down the stairs, done up in her football outfit. Her blond curls were tied up in a ponytail and there was a smile stretched across her face. “Come on, Dad, let’s go, let’s go!”

John shot one more look at Sherlock, who unfolded himself from his chair, before returning his daughter’s smile. “Off we go, sweetheart. Nervous?”

“Excited!” She looked to Sherlock, biting at her lower lip. He slipped his coat on, collar popped as usual. “You’re coming too, right, Papa?”

If anyone else had asked such a thing, there would have been a harsh slice of a response. But Sherlock looked down at Victoria, her blue eyes wide, and simply nodded. “Of course.”

Satisfied, she grabbed John’s hand and pulled him down the stairs, chattering about the other players on her team and the school they were going against.

\---

They’d managed to find a seat near the top of the seat stands where Sherlock could glower at everyone in somewhat peace.

Greg found them twenty minutes later, looking tired as usual but smiling. “Hello, John.”

“Greg,” John greeted. The DI sat himself next to John and fished a handheld video camera out from his bag. “Mycroft made me swear to tape his niece’s first game. Couldn’t come because of some meeting with God-knows-who that he absolutely couldn’t miss, safety of the country at sake.”

“Can’t exactly imagine him in the stands, to be quite honest,” John joked.

“You got Sherlock out here, didn’t you?”

“Nearly had to drag him.”

“My hearing is in no way disabled, giving me the ability to hear every word you two are saying about me.”

“Oh good, well in that case, mind going down to grab us some waters?”

Sherlock glowered at John before getting up and actually going to get the drinks. He stomped as he went down the stands, though, making them rattle slightly.

“Not too happy to be here, is he?”

“Don’t let him fool you - he’d do anything to keep Tori from being upset. She hates when he doesn’t show up.”

“She’s had him wrapped around her finger since day one.”

Sherlock thumped back up the stands, still looking annoyed while the woman selling the waters was red in the face and glaring at the consulting detective. John let it go with a quiet sigh, though he know Sherlock saw and noted it.

The game began soon after with a loud whistle. Victoria spotted her dads in the crowd and gave a quick wave that John returned. She grinned when she saw her Uncle Greg, hopping a bit in excitement. Her couch called out to her and she spun around to sprint over to her position.

John could see how Victoria became completely focused on the game, how the crowd’s cheers and shouts faded from her hearing and her gaze sharpened.

Even though she’d been dead for some time, John was suddenly reminded of Mary. Her stare of intensity, her quiet ability of tearing someone down just her eyes. 

Victoria was a shot through the other players, quickly analyzing their movements and weaving her way through with grace. She’d inherited John’s love of adrenaline and adventure but with her blue eyes snapping from one player to another, visibly deducing their actions, Sherlock’s parental influence shined through.

“She’s really good out there,” Greg mentioned. He kept the camera rolling, tracking Victoria as she moved across the field. “I’ve seen her once or twice during practice but she’s really something.”

John felt his face start to hurt from the width of his smile and when Victoria kicked the ball in for a goal, he and Greg stood to cheer.

“Atta girl, Tori!”

“Go Tori!”

They clapped along with other parents, a few of which John recognized.

When he sat down, he realized that Sherlock had stood up as well. He looked at the taller man, just standing there, his hands clenched. He was watching Victoria race across the field, analysing the other players as much as she was.

“Sherlock?”

Without breaking his gaze, Sherlock sat back down in his seat and brought his fingertips together. “She is rather good, John. She looks just like you out there, like at your old rugby matches.”

“Yeah, but she’s thinking like you.”

A small smile crept up Sherlock’s lips before it fell and the crowd groaned. John looked back at the field to see that the other team had scored.

“That girl on the opposing team - she’s been playing football for years. Father was a young professional who had to retire due to an injury. He’s trained her since she was old enough to run.”

“Tori’ll beat her.”

“Statistically unlikely.”

“ _Tori will beat her_. Because whatever statistics you’re thinking of probably didn’t factor in that Tori’s got an ex-army doctor and a genius as her fathers. Professional player or not, Tori’s going to win.”

“Still an improbability,” Sherlock murmured, though there was a faint flush on his face.

Then Sherlock shifted, one hand gripping his own knee and the other going tight around John’s arm. Victoria had the ball and was running across the field, a look of pure determination in her eyes. She weaved around the other girls, moving like a flash.

“Come on,” Sherlock murmured. “Just move around the child with asthma and a solid kick-”

A cheer went up like a wave as the ball slammed into the goal.

But John was most shocked when a loud roar came from the man beside him.

“YES! GO VICTORIA! BE THE IMPROBABILITY!”

John’s mouth fell open at Sherlock, yelling in his deep voice to their daughter. He glanced down at the field and even Victoria, as concentrated as she had been, had been pulled out of it by the sound of her father’s shout. She stood, just as surprised as John, staring up at Sherlock.

Sherlock and Victoria stared at each other for a few moments before she nodded, smiling, and ran back to her position in the field, a hop in her step.

John felt a nudge at his side. He turned to Greg, whose eyebrows were raised nearly into his hairline. They both just grinned at each other as Sherlock sat back down.

He was breathing quickly, still watching the field and the players, entranced. John smiled softly to himself and slipped his hand into Sherlock’s. The detective looked over to him, looking startled.

“Oh _god_ , I’m one of those despicable parents,” he said in a hushed whisper. “Shouting and being utterly obnoxious.”

“No.” John kissed him solidly, placing a hand around his neck to pull him closer. John stroked a thumb along Sherlock’s cheek as he pulled away. “No, you’re just an _involved_ parent now.”

“Hmm,” Sherlock hummed. “Give me that water, my throat hurts now.”

“I know for a fact that you’ve screamed louder than that. And for longer.”

A sly slice of a grin stretched across Sherlock’s face. “Not for some time.”

“Well lucky for you, after the game and victory party that’s sure to follow, Victoria’s going to a friend’s house for a weekend sleepover.”

“And here I am with all of this on _camera_ ,” Greg announced. “Oh, wait until I show Mycroft.”


End file.
